


I Know How To Art, What Do You Mean?

by Unwieldyink



Category: Percy Jackson and the Olympians & Related Fandoms - All Media Types, Percy Jackson and the Olympians - Rick Riordan, The Heroes of Olympus - Rick Riordan
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-07-06
Updated: 2018-07-15
Packaged: 2019-06-06 09:48:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 3,743
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15192149
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Unwieldyink/pseuds/Unwieldyink
Summary: Artist AUBased on the prompt "My therapist suggested art therapy, and I have no idea what I’m doing, but I’m distracted by you, another person in the workshop, and how gorgeous you are" from a tumblr post.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Here's the tumblr post I got the prompt from: http://thebluesideofmyworld.tumblr.com/post/171910342184/one-of-your-otp-is-an-artist
> 
> Also I'm not sure how much I like this but I need to get back into the writing swing of things so here we go

I took a deep breath, facing the glass sliding doors in front of me. The glare of the midday sun bounced off of the doors harshly, obscuring everything inside. I shook my head, pushing through the doorway. I had to try this at least once.

When I stepped into the studio, I was immediately overwhelmed. People rushed around me almost frantically, arms covered in paint, clay, and charcoal. There were stations set up along the wall, with different activities set up at each one. I once again remembered how I had no artistic talent, and gulped, suddenly not able to remember why I was even here.

I almost turned around and walked right out of the place, but before I could, a girl with green paint on her cheek and frizzy red hair appeared in front of me.

“Hello, are you Will?” The redheaded girl smiled.

“Um, yeah. That’s me.”

“Great! I take it it’s your first time here?” I stared around the busy art workshop, identifying at least twenty tools I didn’t even recognize.

“Yup.”

She laughed a little. “No worries! We welcome beginners. I’m Rachel. I’ll show you around, give you the basics of everything we have here. Maybe we’ll find something you like!”

And so, twenty minutes later, I was sitting in front of a table near the front of the huge room, listening to Rachel talk quietly about which shapes and lines to start with when sketching faces.

I tried, I really did, but I just couldn’t do it. My hand wouldn't stay still; my lines were shaky even using a straightedge. When I tried to copy what Rachel did, the features came out warped and disproportionate. My drawing looked like if hers had nuclear acid splashed in its face before being featured. And it didn’t help that I couldn’t focus at all on what Rachel was saying, because of a certain boy in the corner. He was working on a pot of some kind, moving his hands up and down the spinning piece of clay sitting in front of him. When he used the back of his clay-encrusted hand to wipe his dark bangs out of his face, I got a good look at his face. Dark, intense eyes, with brows furrowed in concentration on the clay. Sharp cheekbones and jawline, dark bags under his eyes, just a hint of some freckles peeking through his olive skin. He looked almost otherworldly.

“Will?” Rachel was looking at me. Quickly, I gulped, pushing thoughts of the beautiful boy to the back of my mind.

“Y-yeah?” Her eyes followed where I’d just been looking.

“You were looking in the pottery section. Do you want to try that?”

“Y-yeah. Yeah. Sounds good.”

She walked me over to one of the pottery stations, and started going over the basics of the equipment. While she was talking, the boy decided that he was satisfied with his pot and started heading to what I presumed was a kiln.

Once I’d started on my own hunk of clay, Rachel said “Can I ask you a question?”

I thought for a moment. “Sure, but I get to ask one in return.”

“Deal. Why are you here? I mean, I’m not judging or anything, I’m just curious. You don’t seem to enjoy… any of this.”

I was grateful for the activity in front of me. It meant that I didn’t have to maintain eye contact. “My therapist suggested I try… like, art and stuff. To help communicate my feelings or some therapist-y stuff like that. And I’ve heard about this place, and I thought it was pretty cool. Like, you can just come in here and use the equipment to make stuff whenever you want, and it’s pretty cheap. There’s not many other places like it. And then I saw that one-on-one intro class, and, well, here I am.”

Rachel looked at me for a moment. “It’s not that cheap.”

“Well, relatively speaking,” I said, relieved that that was her only comment.

“Hm.” She nodded. “So what was your question, then?”

“Oh.” My cheeks felt warm. “Do… do you know who that boy was? The one who was standing there?” I asked quietly, nodding over to where the boy had been standing.

“Oh, Nico? Yeah, I know him. He comes here a lot. He’s a painter, mostly. He comes over to this building to clear his head, when he’s frustrated on a project or something.”

_ Nico. That’s a pretty name. _

“Wouldn’t he already be in this building? The painters are right here.” I gestured to a group of people painting on canvases.

“There are  _ beginning  _ painters over here. This is the beginners zone; you come here if you don’t know what you like or if you’re not very good at a certain thing. Nico’s much too advanced to be painting here. There are specific rooms and areas for each skill. But, well, he’s a painter, not a potter or a sculptor, so he comes here when he does those things, because he’s not as good at them.”

“Makes sense.”

“Why did you want to know about Nico?”

I shrugged, anxious to come up with a sufficient lie. My nerves were clearly showing, making my hunk of clay blotchy and uneven. “Uh, he- he looked familiar. I was wondering if I knew him from somewhere. But that name doesn’t sound right, so- uh- I guess not.”

Rachel gave me a suspicious look. “...Right. Okay.”

“U-uh, anyways!” I was eager to change the topic. “How do I make the pot all, like, curvy?”

“You’re wondering about concavity?” Rachel’s eyebrows were furrowed; she clearly wasn’t going to forget my interest in Nico. “Well, alright…” She pulled up her sleeves, preparing to show me what to do.

I glanced over at the door that Nico had disappeared through. Perhaps I would come to this place more often.


	2. Chapter 2

I slipped through the door of the workshop, the intoxicating smell of paint now familiar after visiting so many times.

My art skills had markedly not improved over the course of the past few weeks, despite Rachel’s best efforts. However, my attitude towards this art thing had; I now looked forward to my time spent in the workshop, instead of it being another task I had to check off my list. Even if I was pretty terrible at… well, everything, it was still fun to throw some paint or clay around.

As soon as I stepped in, I scanned the workplace for Rachel, but her signature frizzy red hair was nowhere in sight. Confused, I made my way over to the station the two of us had more or less claimed as our own, and used almost every time I came here. Laying on the table was a note:

_ Will _

_ My mother is forcing me to go to this awful wedding, I am in pain, help me. I can’t be there for Saturday (I’m assuming that’s when you’re reading this). You don’t have to pay the one-on-one price for today, just go mess around with the tools. Or not. I don’t really care. _

_ Rachel _

Laughing, I stuffed the note in my pocket. So I had a free day, then. I scanned the workshop once again, looking for something interesting to do, and my eyes fell on the door that i knew lead to the painter section. Nico’s face popped back into my head.

I had seen him several more times after that first day, bustling around with one activity or another. But Rachel kept me so busy that I hadn’t had a chance to talk to him, and from the looks of it, he didn’t want to talk to me, either. I got the feeling he didn’t want to talk to anyone.

But maybe now was my chance…

I got up and charged through the door.

The painter area was very different from the beginner's zone (Rachel had told me that there were no official names for the different areas, and technically, you could go wherever you wanted, so I could call the different sections whatever I wanted. Usually, though, I stuck with Rachel’s names). The beginner’s area looked like an art classroom at a high school, with black and tan tables jutting out from the different walls, each one with a group of people crowding around it. The more advanced areas, I could see, were designed more like a professional artist’s studio than a workshop. Easels were spaced out along a white wall, with a window in between each one. Each easel had supplies crowded around it; piled on the floor next to it or on tables sitting nearby. Some of them had half finished projects on them, others were vacant. I only passed a few easels with their artists, and most of them ignored me. Only one person- a tall girl with a pale pink hijab on and startling blue eyes- made eye contact with me and smiled at me as I walked past.

What amazed me most about the area was the space; instead of a square room, it was a long, bare hallway, and the easels were spaced fifteen feet apart, easily. I doubted the painters even saw each other half the time, especially when most of the stations were empty, like now. And instead of the everpresent, bustling chatter of the beginner’s workshop, this place was extremely quiet; the only sounds were of brushes on canvas, bottles of paint clacking on the tables, and occasionally, someone asking their neighbor to borrow a color when they ran out.

All of these thoughts ran through my head as I strolled down the hallway without even a vague idea of what I was doing. I didn’t even know if Nico would be here today. For all I knew, I was just wasting my time-

Suddenly, I stopped in front of a particular unattended painting. It looked like a gaping wound, with drastic swipes of red and black pulling from the center, against a sky blue background. The perspective was jagged, and it looked like pieces of the painting had been pulled up or down, as if I was looking at it through cracked glass.

“Excuse me?” The boy I’d been hoping to see appeared behind me, his hands covered in red paint.

I whirled around to look at him. “S-sorry. This is really good.” I blushed.

He shrugged. “It’s not done.”

“It looks amazing now.”

“Needs more detail.” He stepped up to the canvas and colored over his previous reds with darker patches, his brow furrowing. When he realized I was still standing there, he followed with: “But thank you.”

I didn’t want to disturb his creative process any further, but my heart sounded like a barrelling train in my ears. I couldn’t step away now.

“...What is it?”

He shrugged again. “Abstract.”

Will remembered something Rachel had said to him the last time he came here. “Oh, they told me to come try abstract. Because I suck at regular painting.”

Nico laughed a little. “Oh, don’t say that around the others here. They’re really serious. They’ll think you’re saying that abstract isn’t as serious as traditional or something.”

“No, no, no, I meant-”

“I know what you mean. My brain doesn’t work for traditional. Abstract suits me more. That’s not the case with all abstractionists, though.”

I stepped closer, intrigued now. “What do you mean it doesn’t work for traditional?”

“Well, maybe not my brain, but… traditional doesn’t feel real enough. Or, I mean…” He sighed, frustrated. “Sorry, I’m terrible with words. That’s why I paint. But traditional doesn’t feel… personal enough. For me.” He turned to look at me for the first time. “Does that make any sense?”

I nodded vigorously. “Uh- Rachel said your name was Nico?”

“Yeah. Nico Di Angelo. Yours?”

“Will Solace.”

He smiled slightly. “Nice to meet you, Will. Now, if you don’t mind…”

“Sorry,” I mumbled, stepping away to let him work.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey! Sorry for the shorter chapter today, I just needed it as a transition chapter. Next one will be back to normal length, I promise! Thanks for reading!!  
> EDIT: Hey I just realized I posted this in third person when I meant to keep going with first person, so i edited it, sorry about that!!

I bumped into Rachel as I was walking through the workshop. Literally, bumped into her, and sent the brushes in her arms flying.

As the two of us knelt, gathering up the supplies, I apologized. “Sorry, I wasn’t paying enough attention, I should’ve-”

Rachel waved me away. “Don’t worry about it, Di Angelo. It’s no problem.” I slipped the brushes I’d collected back into the jar where they came from, biting my lip.

“Uh, Rachel…”

“Hm?”

“Your new kid. The blond one. Will?”

Rachel nodded. “Yeah, he’s coming tomorrow. Why?”

“Nothing. He talked to me last Saturday, is all. Said you told him my name… I was wondering why.”

“Why I told you his name? Because he asked, of course. Said you looked familiar.”

I shook my head. “I’ve never seen him in my life.”

“Hm…” Rachel suddenly got a wicked glint in her eye, one that made me uneasy. “Hey, how would you feel about taking over showing him the ropes?”

“What? I don’t work here.”

“No one has to know! I’ll give you my pay, promise.”

“But why don’t you-”

“C’monnnnn, Nico. I’m trying to be a good wingwoman here.”

I felt my cheeks grow hot, and suddenly my tongue felt too big for my mouth. “W-Wingwoman?? I’m not- I don’t- I’ve only talked to him once, Rachel! You can’t just set me up with every cute guy who comes in here! I don’t…  _ like _ him or whatever.”

Rachel, still kneeling face-to-face with me, leaned forward a little bit. “Nah, but he likes you.”

“He does?”

“Mmhm. Wouldn’t stop staring at you the first time he was here. And why do you think he asked your name? Why would he go looking for you on Saturday? He totally likes you!”

I rolled my eyes. “Okay, that  _ doesn’t mean _ -”

“Plus, you just called him cute, so…”

“I did?!” I quickly rewinded through our conversation. “Oh. I did.”

Rachel laughed. “So, like I said, he’s coming tomorrow. I’ll bring him over to you, then?”

“Uh…”

“I’m taking that as a yes!”

.

Something about Rachel’s grin gave me a bad feeling. I almost didn’t want to walk over to her. Still, I was here for a reason. So I approached her warily.

“Hello?” I tried.

“‘Sup, Will.” Rachel gave me a nod. “So, I might’ve made a little bit of a plan to hatch.”

“Uh-huh…” 

“Because I’m bored and you’re so not subtle, and-”

“Not subtle about what?”

Rachel grinned again. “So you know that painter boy you like, Nico?”

I froze. “Who says I like him?”

“Common sense.”

“Well common sense is wrong, I don’t-”

“Will. Please.” All it took was a glare from Rachel, and suddenly all of the arguments that I was about to sprout died. “So,” Rachel continued, “since I’m such a good friend, I orchestrated a way for you two to spend more time together! I told him that you were more interested in painting, so I wanted to hand you off to a painting master or whatever, and he said yes!”

“But that means that I won’t be seeing any of you.”

Rachel held up her hand. “Oh, I’ll still be hanging around, don’t worry. But anyways, I’m wasting your time. Let’s go find Nico!” She started marching off before I could get even a word in.

A few moments later, I found myself standing in front of an awkward-looking Nico’s easel.

“Hello again,” I started.

“Hi,” Nico said faintly back.

“Well, I’ll leave you to it, then,” Rachel said, smiling at both of us. “Have fun!” And with that, she was gone.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow, look at that, I finally wrote something! I'm sorry this one took so long; I went out of town, and also completely lost motivation in this story for a little bit... but I'm back now and ready to kick myself back into gear!  
> Oh yeah, also, I don't paint, I don't know how to paint, probably everything in this is 100% false, sorry.

“Okay, but that’s not the right kind of brush you want to use, because of how big it is. For these finer details, you need to get a thinner brush…” Nico’s voice droned on, as he plucked the brush from my hand and me him another one. Slowly, I brought the new, smaller brush to the canvas and tried to make the same strokes that Nico had demonstrated a moment before.

“No, no, no!” Nico said. “You’re going to break the canvas with how hard you’re pushing down! You need to be gentler!”

“Well, you didn’t tell me that!” I shot back.

“Yes I did!”

“No you did not! Look- I’m trying my best here, but I really don’t need you yapping in my ear the whole time-”

“Oh, so you want to try it without my help then?”

I shut my mouth quickly. For the past few sessions with Nico, our arguments had started to get more and more frequent, resulting in him going to his now-normal attack of ‘maybe I’ll just leave’. The first time we talked, the two of us had gotten along fine, but now, after spending hours at a time with each other, both of our stubbornness had been revealed.

“You have to do it right,” Nico said, matter-of-facty. He demonstrated again. “See?”

“I’m trying,” was all I grumbled. “You know, I don’t understand why you have to be so micromanaging about every little detail. I’m learning! It doesn’t have to be perfect!”

Nico crossed his arms. “Hey. If you want me to teach you, you have to do it my way.”

“Well, that’s stupid. Your way isn’t the best way, just because you say it is!”

“Maybe not always.” He cocked his head at me, his voice shifting into a mocking, faux-sympathy ridden tone. “But I also know that pushing down so hard will damage the brush  _ wayyyy _ faster than you’d damage it normally. And I don’t think any of us want that.”

Finally, I’d had it. God, the way he talked to me like I was a two-year-old! Like he was trying to explain to me why the sun rises every day! I slammed the brush down on the little table next to me.

“Okay, you know what? If you’re just gonna treat me like I’m an idiot, then I don’t want to be here!”

“You are an idiot.” The side of Nico’s mouth quirked up a little. “And what do you mean, you  _ don’t want to do this _ ? What’re you gonna do?”

“Leave!” I exploded, stomping my foot. “Go back to Rachel! Or, hell, stop coming here altogether! Forget what my stupid therapist says! I’m the one paying you, y’know! It wouldn’t hurt to be a little kinder!”

“Oh, come on! I never even asked to teach you!”

“Well I never asked to be taught by you, so I guess we’re in the same boat!”

Nico’s hand balled into a fist, and he waved a paintbrush at me angrily (not the most threatening weapon). “You are insufferable! You know, if I’d known you’d be so dramatic-”

“Oh,  _ I’m _ being dramatic?”

“-then I never would’ve let Rachel talk me into this in the-” Nico suddenly stopped. His eyebrows knit together slightly as he asked: “Wait, did you say something about a therapist?”

“Quit trying to change the subject. We’re talking about how you’re being an unfair, pompous jerk-”

“Really?” Nico’s eyebrows shot up. “Because I thought we were just having a conversation about how you’re an insecure idiot who can’t take any criticism-”

“You pointing out every little detail I got wrong is  _ not  _ fair criticism!”

“Well, gee, it’s almost like I’m not a very good teacher. Almost like I never even asked to be in this position- oh wait.”

“Well, that’s not my fault.”

Nico opened his mouth to argue back, then stopped and shook his head. “Wait. Therapist. Can we get back to that, please?”

I crossed my arms in front of my chest. “It’s none of your business.”

“I know. I just want to know, did a therapist send you here? Is that why you’re here?”

“It’s none of your-”

“I know!” Nico help up his hands in a half stop, half surrendering gesture. “Okay, look, I’m sorry. I guess I’ve been a little harsh on you. It’s just that- I don’t know, I’m so used to picking at flaws in my own work that it’s hard to turn that off when it’s someone else’s. And this, painting, artwork… well, it’s kind of my way to get  _ away _ from people. I have no idea how to interact with it in a social setting. So what I’m saying is, I’m just as new to this as you are to painting. So, I’m sorry. Can we start over?”

“The painting or our friendship?”

Nico laughed slightly. “Our friendship, idiot.”

I pouted. “I thought you just said you’d be nicer to me.”

Nico pushed at my arm jokingly. “Yeah, but you’re still an idiot.” 

I turned back to the canvas. “I guess I should apologize, too.”

“You don’t have to.”

“Yeah, but I should. I’m sorry for being… oversensitive, or whatever.”

“You weren’t! I mean, it was me who-”

“Nico. Just take the apology.”

He smiled nervously. “Right.” He now started sizing up my canvas, too.

“Maybe I should start over with this, too,” I mused. “I’m pretty sure my lack of artistic skill and your… whatever you were doing, combined to make this pretty much unsavable.”

“It’s not…  _ unsavable _ ,” he mumbled. I looked at him incredulously. “Okay, it would take a lot of work to save,” he admitted.

I laughed and pulled the canvas off of the easel. “Why don’t we start something new next time, and for the rest of today, you can work on your thing?” I nodded towards an unfinished piece.

“Oh, but you’re paying for this-”

“It’s okay. I think I like watching you paint better, anyways.” Was it just me, or did Nico blush slightly at that? No, I must’ve imagined it. Or maybe it was hot in here, or whatever. Or maybe it was just wishful thinking…

Yeah, even if he had been kind of a jerk, Nico was still really,  _ really  _ cute. And there was something about the way he talked about art- even if he was a bit pretentious about it- that made me want to know more about him. Something about the look in his eyes… I wondered what that look would translate to in other things in life.

I could see it now, when he stepped up to the easel again. His brow furrowed, his jaw clenched- it was like he had shut out the entire rest of the world.

It was suddenly hard to pretend that my heart didn’t beat a little strangely at the thought of him being nice- maybe even  _ sweet _ \- to me.

So I leaned back against the opposite wall, and watched Nico paint.


End file.
